Wednesday, May 27, 2015

11 It's Not a Race



The whaling ship Pequod is described:

            “She was a thing of trophies.  A cannibal of a craft, tricking herself forth in the chased bones of her enemies.  All round, her unpanelled, open bulwarks were garnished like one continuous jaw, with the long sharp teeth of the sperm whale, inserted there for pins, to fasten her old hempen thews and tendons to.  Those thews ran not through base blocks of land wood, but deftly travelled over sheaves of sea-ivory.  Scorning a turnstile wheel at her reverend helm, she sported there a tiller; and that tiller was in one mass, curiously carved from the long narrow lower jaw of her hereditary foe.” [my emphasis.]

Melville’s appetite for cannibalism must be remarked.  The author establishes a clear relation between the whaling vessel and Queequeg, the cannibal.  Current appetites tend to read Queequeg’s character as the figurehead for the novel’s discussion of race, yet this interpretation makes nothing of the quote above (a ship, with more than a hundred sundry souls aboard, cannot be a race).  The thematic relationship fails.  Severance of this kind will kill a novel, like taking a fish from water.  A novel thrives, though at a depth, on the expectation of consistency.  If inconsistent, it is a poor novel; if great, it will be consistent.  Trust the relation, then seek to interpret: Queequeg and the Pequod are cannibals. 

Melville’s use of cannibal has little to do with race.  In Moby-Dick, race appears as flotsam on the sea—briefly noted by the pilot’s eye as he fixes on the greater wreck ahead.  The ship runs over race, in order that it might later take survivors from the sea.  Based on the correlation between Queequeg and the Pequod, I propose Melville’s use of cannibal refers to nature itself, and its wild conditions.

The ship clearly represents home—the universally common place each character inhabits.  And what else is home to the human race, if not nature?  Melville states his meaning precisely and avoids the inherent vagueness of the word: he will not write nature, he writes cannibal instead.  This not only names the place, but interprets it.  Nothing lives in nature but it devours natural things.  Death and growth overflow, but never in equal balance.  While nature preys upon itself, the human race watches, horrified.

Queequeg, however, seems immune to this horror.  He is a creature both in and of nature, wholly natural.  Cannibal himself, he knows nature’s life-and-death conditions.  He places himself willingly in nature’s teeth.  Ironically, his fearlessness makes him remarkable and thus grandly individual—a hero of the novel, thrice a savior.  Placed in contrast with Captain Ahab’s insistent solitariness, the term cannibal becomes a central consideration of the text as a whole.  Our hero is the man who can inhabit contentedly the cannibal Pequod.

But Melville’s human authorial intention exceeds the natural condition.  Three times, Queequeg saves drowning men: a stranger, a fellow harpooneer, and ultimately Ishmael.  Queequeg preserves life, and thus his humanity.  The human race, inhabiting this place, still wants to live.  So, to fathom cannibal nature raises the question, to what end does Queequeg preserve these lives?

Ishmael asserts his reason for going to sea: “I want to see the world.”  Being urged, therefore, to take a look, Ishmael comments:

            “Going forward and glancing over the weather bow, I perceived that the ship swinging to her anchor with the flood-tide, was now obliquely pointing towards the open ocean.  The prospect was unlimited, but exceedingly monotonous and forbidding; not the slightest variety that I could see.”

Such a monotonous world forbids individuality.  It also overwhelms race.  Ishmael sees the world as “not much…nothing but water…”  All humanity ships under this condition.  The hero contents himself to live in the jaws of death, dedicated to preservation of life, yet all the while individually obsolete.  Is such contentedness possible outside of fiction?  Humanly possible, I mean.  Can Ishmael resign himself to not be Isaac?  Can a man resign himself?  Integral to Melville’s artistry, therefore, is the assurance of future sanctuary.  In its secret hold, Moby-Dick bears a discussion of faith upon the open ocean.  It seeks to navigate cannibal nature.

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